


settled under skies

by catpoop



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, First Dates, Fluff, Friendship, Galaxy Garrison, M/M, Picnics, Pre-Slash, Stargazing, mid-autumn festival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpoop/pseuds/catpoop
Summary: Just the story of a pair of awkward teenagers.It's not a date, Shiro reminds himself. And that's because it's not. It's a picnic. With Keith. Who he's never interacted with before outside of his tutoring sessions.Keith is just there for the free food.





	settled under skies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sheith Birthday Exchange!
> 
> My original partner's prompt reads: Sheith Mooncake Festival AU? :) the boys lovingly munching on moon cakes together <33  
> Unfortunately, they seem to have dropped out, so this fic is now for itbespacegays. I hope this is okay!
> 
> Also, thank you so much to Min for organising this event and being a great beta :)

Shiro shivers in his seat, a cool frisson running down his spine as he stares at the tablet in front of him. He reaches up to wipe away what feels like a bead of sweat at his temple before remembering he’s in a public space, and wait – that might be Keith heading over right now.

_No nervousness, Shirogane._

Keith doesn’t actually arrive until five tense minutes later, and by then Shiro has convinced himself that eternal humiliation is insignificant in the grand scale of things. He has a tutoring session to get through before the embarrassment ensues, anyway.

“Sorry I’m late,” Keith says, not sounding very sorry.

“It’s okay.” Shiro eyes his unkempt appearance; collar uneven and hair a little messier than usual, Keith sits down with a thump. “Did you make notes for this week’s chapter?”

The answer is a defiant ‘no’, but Shiro already knows that. He reaches for his own second-hand notes as Keith taps to the correct chapter in his textbook, staring miserably at the wall of text. “I don’t… want to read this.”

To be fair, neither did Shiro. “Did you understand the main points? From class?”

“Mhm?” Keith fidgets, looking expectantly at Shiro to start explaining the material. And, well, that’s what he’d volunteered to do, so Shiro gets to it. As he starts dissecting the lengthy paragraphs, he can’t help but notice that Keith looks more focused on twirling a stylus between his fingers and staring a hole into Shiro’s skull.

He pauses to give Keith a patient look, who hurries to type a singular bullet point into his empty document.

“Do you want to try the audiobook again?” If Keith would just concentrate–

Keith shakes his head. “Voice sounds like fingernails. Anyway, your teaching makes more sense.”

Shiro supposes he should be flattered, though the way Keith is squirming on the edge of his seat makes it clear he wants to be anywhere but here. With a sigh, Shiro turns back to his notes. Keith will have to manage on his own one day if he wants to take his interest in astronomy anywhere. Of course, Shiro can’t fault him for falling in love with the panoramic spreads of nebulas, supernovas, and pulsars scattered across the pages of their textbooks.

He tries not to be annoyed, because a defensive Keith is an uncooperative Keith. And also because he was planning to– 

Shiro gulps, darting a look at the nearby clock. _Ten minutes_.

Ten minutes too soon, it turns out, when Keith kicks his chair back with a languid noise and gathers up his belongings, ready to flee the library. Shiro reaches forward with a halting movement. “Wait–”

“Hmm?”

“Are you – are you free Friday night? It’s–” The words disappear back down Shiro’s dry throat. He swallows around a mouthful of what feels like shrapnel and lint, nervous under Keith’s curious gaze.

“I’m free,” Keith chirps.

Shiro quietly massages his throat. “Well, it’s – my aunt sent me some mooncakes from home?” He'd planned an entire speech in his head, but the words flee as soon as he opens his mouth. “And, I don’t know if you’re interested in this festival, but we could treat it as–”

He's cut off by Keith's interruption. “Festival?”

“Mid-Autumn,” Shiro explains, “during which you eat mooncakes.” 

Keith furrows his brows for a silent second, appearing to be deep in thought. “So there’s free cake?”

Not exactly _cake_ in the sense that Keith’s used to, but regardless, Shiro smiles and nods. “I’ll – I’ll text you the details, yeah? Since you're free and all.”

"Okay." Keith offers a small, rare smile before turning to leave.

\-----

See, it had made sense in Shiro's mind, when the mooncakes came in the mail, letter attached. Keith looks like he needs the company. Keith could be an interesting friend. Keith is also... three years his junior. Sure, there are other people who'd be willing to split some free food with him, festival or not, but–

Shiro stares at the white expanse of his ceiling, and it offers no answer.

Right, _mooncakes_. Definitely not an excuse to meet up with Keith outside their tuition sessions (impulsive, talented, curiosity-fuelled _Keith_ ). And he definitely doesn’t squeak when Keith responds to his Friday-afternoon text with a terse "Okay."

 _See you there,_ Shiro replies.

 _There_ isn't really the ideal spot for a first date, if the meeting were even a date to begin with, which it’s _not_ , Shiro reminds himself. It's just a companionable picnic on a stretch of sun-warmed roof under the stars.

Shiro tries to keep the swirling anxiety under control as he gathers up the picnic blanket, the food, the flask of tea, the _extra_ food, in case Keith isn't happy with the mooncakes alone, and his self-confidence, or what remains of it.

He spares another glance in the full-body mirror, regarding his outfit with a judgemental eye. Casual enough to fool Keith into thinking he hadn’t spent time agonising over each article of clothing. Shiro clears his throat as he locks his room door behind him.

Curfew’s at ten, so their meeting at eight promises a good two hours of… picnic time. Shiro tries not to imagine the worst outcomes, of sitting in awkward silence for two hours or watching as Keith goes skidding down the roof in blatant escape. And given that he arrives a whole fifteen minutes earlier, Shiro has a top-ten list created as well as a dozen other nearly-as-bad-but-not-really situations floating around by the time eight o’clock arrives.

He sips his tea loudly.

Shiro fumbles to close his flask when Keith appears behind his shoulder, unannounced.

“Hey.”

"Oh! Hi. Sit down."

Keith sits.

He looks skinnier than usual, Shiro notices, all-black outfit loose on his frame and blending into the darkness around them. In fact, the only parts of him not shrouded in black are his skinny shins and bare arms. Shiro eyes his fingerless gloves (also black) in interest.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s easier to move around in this.”

“We – We’re not going to be doing much moving around.”

“Oh.”

Maybe the picnic blanket they’re sitting on isn’t clear enough. Nor the small variety of food, or the text Shiro had sent hours previous ( _It’s just a picnic, so you don’t have to bring anything_ ).

Keith’s luminescent gaze is strangely unsettling. Shiro thrusts the half-closed flask at him in a panic. “Here. Do you want tea?”

“Uhm, sure.” Keith politely takes the tea, eyes darting to Shiro’s face then down again. Despite the slight chill in the air, Shiro can feel his palms grow ever-sweaty as he stares down at the pitiful excuse for a picnic basket he’s assembled.

And as his luck will have it, the full moon hangs in stark definition, outlining every nervous expression on his face. Keith looks visibly confused.

“Right. So, um, have you heard of the Mid-Autumn Festival before?” Finally, an opportunity to distract himself from the silence, and Keith, and the _silence_ , and–

Keith shakes his head.

“O-Of course.” Shiro clears his throat, hyperaware of how Keith is awaiting his next word, like he's attending his favourite lecture. Suddenly, Shiro feels a little guilty for wasting his time, when he could be doing more productive things elsewhere and not picnicking on the rooftop in a caricature of celebration. Does Keith even want to be here?

“It's a tradition where you get together with your family and eat dinner and have these mooncakes and – and appreciate the full moon." He points at the delicate box sitting innocuously between them. With slightly shaky hands, Shiro fumbles to pry the box open. “See? They’re round, to represent the moon.”

Keith bends to peer at the contents of the box, plucking one of the packaged cakes out with a thoughtful noise before turning to stare at Shiro in that uncannily hawk-like way.

“Yeah.” Shiro tries again, as the silence gets a little too loud. “Do you want something to eat?”

He nearly collapses in relief when Keith utters his next words ( _finally!_ ). “So you... want me to look at the moon?”

Shiro laughs in bewilderment. “I – kind of? I mean, it’s more about sharing food and enjoying that than actually studying the moon.” He cracks a lopsided smile. “And we’d have to go up to the observatory to do that, anyway.”

“Oh. Okay.” With a decisive motion, Keith points at the first of two mooncakes in the box. “I want to try that.”

“Sure.”

The atmosphere eases into a more comfortable camaraderie as Shiro pulls out the paper napkins and plastic cutlery, cutting the cake into quarters and nodding along as Keith points out the constellations (his favourite ones), the streetlights in the distance, and the occasional Garrison rover as it drives out into the desert.

“Wonder where that’s going...”

Shiro offers him a slice of cake. “You know, back when I was a new recruit, there was an emergency out in the desert, and they called almost all of the rovers out to deal with it.”

“Really?” It’s at times like these that he remembers Keith is still a kid, his eyes wide and his guarded posture loose as he leans forward in eager curiosity. “What happened?”

“I know, that’s what I wondered too. What’s there to happen out in the desert, in the middle of the night? I’m not sure, but I definitely heard rumours about aliens...” Shiro finishes with a sip of his tea and a small bite of cake, smiling at the concentration on Keith's face. “C’mon, try the mooncake. I think you’ll like it.”

“Aliens...” Keith mutters, but he raises the cake to his lips regardless, taking a careless bite that he soon regrets. He splutters in confusion, swallowing with visible effort. “Um – what _is_ that?”

“There’s lotus paste, which is sweet. And the yellow thing in the middle is salted egg yolk.”

“I don’t like eggs,” Keith pouts, “especially not salty ones.”

But just as Shiro's starting to panic (what kind of food does he even enjoy?), Keith takes another bite from the remaining piece in his hand.

“...The sweet paste stuff is nice, though.”

Shiro sags in relief. “Yeah, most people like it.”

As it turns out, Keith seems pretty receptive to the whole idea of free food, enthusiastically gobbling down everything in front of them, save for the occasional piece of salted yolk that he flicks aside in disinterest.

As Shiro watches another bright yellow fragment go rolling off the edge of the roof, he finds his nervousness fading away, content to forget his duties (definitely no eating on the roof, let alone when it’s dark out and there’s an impressionable, second-year cadet beside him) as Keith grows increasingly excited with each alien theory.

“–And that’s how I nearly stabbed my dad in the foot ‘coz I thought he were an alien!” Keith exclaims, eyes alight and sugar-fuelled arms windmilling (Shiro eyes the shredded pack of gummy worms).

“Because he… accidentally locked himself out?” Unfortunately, it’s easy to imagine a ten-year old Keith pulling out a carving knife at the first strange noise. “But didn’t you notice him leaving the house before?”

Keith’s frown is one of an aged veteran. “How am I s’posed to know it wasn’t a shapeshifter?”

Oh. Of course. Shiro isn’t even sure if shapeshifters are aliens or another breed of crazy.

Keith grins toothily at him through a mouthful of crackers. “Scary, right?”

Shiro pretends to shiver. “Yeah.”

\-----

He shouldn’t be encouraging this behaviour, especially when Keith next suggests they ride out into the desert (on Shiro’s bike, of course) in search of cryptids, and flying saucers, and strange creatures with disproportionate limbs.

“Keith…”

“ _Please?_ ” Keith’s hangdog eyes bore into his soul.

Shiro slowly shakes his head. “ _Keith_ …”

“It’s going to be fun!”

“It’s going to be _dangerous_ ,” Shiro corrects, firmly steering Keith in the direction of his next class.

“Sitting on the roof is also dangerous,” Keith pipes up, smirking like he knows that _Shiro_ knows they were breaking rules.

“Yeah, well...”

He never actually agrees to anything, but Shiro finds himself perched on a random stretch of Garrison rooftop at least three more times in the following weeks (pizza first, then sushi, then two steaming thermoses of hot chocolate, marshmallows included).

He’s a heartbeat from straddling his hoverbike and allowing Keith’s thinner arms to snake around his torso when he sighs, rubs his temples.

“Keith…”

“Hm?”

“Shouldn’t you be studying? Or doing something equally productive?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “S’not like you’re being productive.”

“I mean...”

“See? So it’s fine.” And with that, Keith hops on behind him, mischievously reaching for the handlebars as Shiro finally gives in.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you your little bike ride, and after that, _studying_ , promise?”

Keith just grins at him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments are very appreciated
> 
> [tumblr](https://swummeng-geys.tumblr.com/) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/hashtag_yikes)
> 
> feel free to send me fic requests on tumblr :)


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